


The Tale of Tooru and Takeru

by sonderings (lacunaletters)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Haikyuu!! spoilers, Light Angst, Slice of Life, Vague references to the manga/anime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25818418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacunaletters/pseuds/sonderings
Summary: Mostly true to title. This is the Tale of Tooru and Takeru, as well as the Tale of their loved ones around them (especially Takeru’s mother, who is also Oikawa’s older sister). Vague manga/anime references and spoilers.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru & Oikawa Tooru's Sister, Oikawa Tooru & Takeru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	The Tale of Tooru and Takeru

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:This is not a reader-insert. Think of it as this extended, detailed headcanon.

_“You look like a potato.”_

That is the first thing that comes to Tooru’s mind when he meets Takeru. 

Takeru is crusty, flaky, tiny and mushy. Takeru, swaddled in white, looks much more potato than human. Not an ugly potato, but a potato, nonetheless. What assured Tooru that there was a chance Takeru was actually a human and not this potato with a face, is that Takeru refused to stop crying. Crying was very much human. 

“Come hold him,” Haruna (his dear older sister and Takeru’s mother) calls. Tooru doesn’t really want to. He eats potatoes, he doesn’t hold them, and although he’s never encountered crying potatoes until now, something tells him he probably wouldn’t hold those either. 

Of course, he doesn’t say this out loud to the older sister whom he loves very much. Tooru just bites his lip hard and lets the tension racing through his body loosen with a sigh.

“Don’t be nervous,” his mother teases with a giggle and a pat on his shoulder, ushering him to sit down in the chair by the hospital bed. _I’m not nervous,_ Tooru protests in his head. Well, maybe he is because he doesn’t say it out loud. He’s the only one who hears it. 

Or, maybe he just didn’t feel like holding a baby-in-disguise. Maybe he was waiting for the moment Takeru would reveal himself to actually be a potato. Maybe he was just really tired, it was 4am in the morning after all. 

Tooru sits down in the chair by the hospital bed. _I’m not nervous,_ he repeats to himself. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath. 

It all happens much quicker than he’d like. Maybe Takeru _is_ actually what Tooru thinks he is—a potato, now hot-potato-ing from his sister’s embrace, to his mother’s arms, about to be tossed into his own hold. But wait! Tooru’s not ready! However, the husband has his hands full in the midst of a phone call, and his father is in the washroom. The music is still going on in the background (Takeru’s crying), and there are no toss-backs allowed right? Tooru is the only option. 

His athletic reflexes save him at this moment. As his mind haywires, his muscles move his hands up to respond to his mom’s instructions. “Hold him like this,” she says kindly, referring to the position of her arms. Tooru’s limbs follow suit, perfectly replicating the formation of a human cradle for Takeru.

(Takeru who is more potato than human, and who is probably— _actually,_ a _potato_.)

The moment Takeru is in Tooru’s arms, the whole room turns to him.

It is silent. Takeru has stopped crying. 

His sister sighs in relief and rolls over, saying that she might try to take a nap, which is very much well deserved. His mother, who is far better at technology than any boomer-aged being Tooru knows, is snapping photos of him and Takeru on her iphone, cooing at what she calls a very precious moment. The husband is still on the phone with a relative, but pauses to check in on Haruna before she closes her eyes—“Do you need anything, my love?” he hushes. His father is still in the washroom.

It’s game-over. Tooru is out. He’s the last one left holding on, yet he doesn’t feel like a loser. He still hasn’t said anything, but internally he thinks that his young volleyball-hands in the making might have some sort of magical touch. He closes the Takeru-is-a-potato conspiracy theory with the final thought being: if Takeru is a potato, he’d be okay with that. However, Takeru is not a potato, and he is also okay with that.

He looks at the creature that is smaller than his forearm. Tooru thinks that if he chopped off his forearm, Takeru, the not-potato, would probably weigh less than that too. Tooru can’t stop staring into Takeru’s eyes. They’re bright, brimming with life and light. He wonders what secrets the newly-born keep behind eyes like that. Takeru has just seen, breathed and cried for about an hour in the world he has to live in now, there’s probably a lot going on. Tooru stays silent, like how Takeru is now. It would be rude to say something that Takeru wouldn’t be able to understand quite yet.

Tooru doesn’t cry, but the little janitors in his heart clean up the clutter, making space for something new to care about. 

-

Maybe it makes sense in the small brain of a 5-month old to stuff your mouth with everything you touch. There’s the newspaper, the stray socks, the actual baby trinkets you should actually chew on, your own hands—the list goes on and on. 

Maybe it makes sense to have trust in the world. To believe that everything is harmless. That there are no toxins in the ink of printed paper or germs in the clothes that cover feet.

Maybe it makes sense to trust endlessly and recklessly. To trust that the people who hold you, who carry you, who pick you up, will never ever drop you because nothing has really hurt you yet. 

-

There’s a saying that goes like so. No news is good news, meaning that if you hear of nothing, all is probably well. Tooru, a fresh preteen in puberty, riding out his twelfth year of life to the best that he can, has cultivated a critical and objective mindset. Yes, no news is good news, but also, maybe no news is bad news? Maybe news is just news. Maybe news that arrives just makes things more complicated. Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean it’s bad. 

“What?”

“It’s going to be finalized in the winter.”

Tooru is surprised by the news, and leaning more towards the side of disliking it, but what does he know? Not that many things. He’s twelve, he loves volleyball, and his sister is getting a divorce.

“What about Takeru?”

“Haruna has sole custody,” his mother replies.

Tooru kind of wants to ask if this is a bad thing or a good thing. Putting “divorce” in a section and slapping a label on it might help him understand what to do about it, if there’s anything he could do.

He doesn’t ask if it’s a bad thing or a good thing. “What happened?” he asks instead.

His mother smiles a very sad smile. “It’s complicated,” she answers. 

Tooru changes his mind, news can be bad. The bad news being the _It’s complicated_ part and the way his mother sadly smiles. He doesn’t get to hear what exactly is the bad news though, for his mother moves on. 

“The thing is,” she says carefully with hesitance. “Haruna will actually be coming by next week. She’ll be moving back in with us. With Takeru.”

She goes on about how she’s sorry it’s on such short notice. How she hopes Tooru will be as kind as he can be to his sister and Takeru because his sister is going through a lot, and Takeru hasn’t even turned one yet. How he’ll not only need to tidy up his own room, but also help baby-proof the house. There are many _how’s,_ but from the start of all these _how’s,_ Tooru has zoned out.

Haruna, Takeru, his mother, his father, and him all living together in one house. Family.

This, he concludes, has to be good news.

-

In the Oikawa Household, the following are a few of the new normals:

One of them is that no one knows when the great cry of Takeru will strike and ring throughout the walls. Yesterday, it was from 12am to 1am. Today it looks like it’s 6pm (it is presently 6pm) and onwards until Takeru decides he wants to stop. The future is unknown. Takeru is inconsistent and can’t make up his mind. Babies don’t make schedules for you to know when they cry, they just make sure they’re _LOUD._

Turns out, Tooru’s magic in his hands only works sometimes, like a flawed spell he’s still learning how to cast. At the very least, it works most of the time.

However, Tooru isn’t always there, busy with the new workload of junior highschool, and even busier with volleyball club.

There is an easy answer to this though. One weekend, Haruna and Takeru’s shared room gets sound-proofed with numerous thick blankets and quilts until it looks like a cozy fort of an art installation. The cries get cushioned to be soft and tolerable. 

-

Another new normal is ceaseless celebration. A celebration for Takeru burping, a celebration for Takeru not eating dust bunnies on the ground, a celebration for Takeru waking up, etc. etc. etc.

Pretty much everything Takeru does comes with celebration—the little giggles to silly peekaboos, some motion with a hand that resembles saying hello and goodbye, all the “goos” and the “gahs”—any noise that sounds like a word makes the cut for celebration too. Tooru is all for it. He nominates himself as Takeru’s #1 cheerleader. 

He makes a game out of observing Takeru and predicting what the baby’s next moves will be, and it is fascinating to witness. Takeru is still teaching himself how to maneuver his body, and Oikawa figures out all the tips and tricks to the natural rhythm of movement, and who better to learn from than someone who has never moved before? 

Tooru notes the shifting eye-tracks, the bend of a shoulder, the stretching of the knee, and he gets more accurate day by day. 

He now knows when Takeru makes a zipping crawl across the corner. He now knows the exact moment when Takeru finally stands on his own two feet without needing any assistance (he’s still a little wobbly but wow! It’s all on his own!). He knows when there is an accident about to happen, and catches Takeru every time he loses his balance before he tumbles off the couch.

Tooru tucks all these learnings and discoveries into the front pockets of his brain for potential future use. 

-

The last new normal is a different normal. It’s not Takeru crying normal or Takeru celebration normal. This new normal isn’t about the new life that is Takeru, it is about the old life that is Haruna. His older sister, who used to live at home and is now back. Who always made sure Oikawa ate his vegetables at the dinner table. Who always helped tutor Tooru on any subjects he needed help with. Who was always there for him—to argue through all the disagreements that siblings have, and to give pieces of wisdom that Tooru had yet to obtain. 

The new normal for Tooru’s sister is sadness, the sort of sad that is so sad, you can smell it. Tooru also thinks he might have a sensitive nose.

No one really talks about it out loud. It is spoken about in whispers and in hushed voices of his parents behind closed doors. Or, one on one talks between Haruna and their mother or Haruna and their father. 

Tooru and Takeru are both left out of the conversation it seems. 

It also seems like there is no easy answer to this. There are no makeshift blanket-fort rooms to solve what Haruna is going through, and it is nothing to celebrate. It is walking around the eggshells you cannot see and being okay with having an empty seat at the dinner table. 

Tooru takes notice of Haruna’s change. There’s the slump in her posture, and the deep furrow of her eyebrows as if she is trying to put together a puzzle with missing pieces. There’s dullness to her voice that wasn’t there before, and since she’s been back at home, he hasn’t seen her smile once. Not a genuine, from the heart— I'm-so-happy-I-can’t-control-my-face smile. Only smiles that seem to say _I’m sorry._

I’m sorry I know this is a lot. I’m sorry you have to deal with me. I’m sorry to be a burden. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. 

These observations are different from watching Takeru. There is no accident to prevent or to predict, the accident has already happened, and this is the aftermath of it all.

So what can Tooru do?

-

Tooru knocks gently on the door. “Hey.” 

His sister is curled up on the floor with her back facing him. She gets up slowly, rubbing her eyes—from sleeping or crying, Tooru isn’t sure. Those were two things that Haruna secretly seemed to be doing a lot of whenever she wasn't taking care of Takeru.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says. “Mom wanted to know if you were joining us.”

Haruna doesn’t say yes. Haruna doesn’t say no. Haruna just sits still and says nothing.

At this point, Tooru is used to this. He’s used to waiting and receiving nothing for an answer and accepting that. He’s used to going downstairs and giving his mother a shrug to which his mother would sigh and pack some food in a separate container which would usually be half-eaten by the next day. 

But, at this point, this point being right now, Tooru doesn’t want nothing. He won’t expect an answer, but he wants something. He hasn’t quite figured out what that something is or if he’ll get it right now, but he takes a step into the blanket-fort of a room and takes a seat in front of Haruna.

Looking at her face, at the dark circles and the droop of her eyes, he can’t tell if she was crying or sleeping, but maybe it doesn’t matter. Haruna gives him one of her usual sorrowful smiles, and maybe that’s when all of his thoughts come together. He doesn’t want to force her to show what she’s actually feeling deep down, or to get angry and yell at him, or to break down into tears.

He just wants her to be okay. 

She doesn’t have to be okay right now, he just wants her to be okay sometime later, and for her to continue to be okay. 

He smiles back at her, as kindly as he can. Tooru takes her hands into his palms, and hopes he still has some magic, any magic that’ll help soothe the hurt his sister chooses not to share. 

She’s probably just protecting herself by doing so, and she’s also probably protecting him by doing so. 

Like always.

Haruna doesn’t respond. She doesn’t say anything just yet. What goes through her mind is the circle she’s been sprinting along, questioning whether it was the little things that built up to one big thing—if the little things mattered enough to build up to one big thing, and _why_. Why, why, _why_ couldn’t the little things be sorted out if they were little. She just keeps going around and around and around, disoriented and dizzy, backtracking and analyzing all the moments she’s had with whom she believed to be her partner in life at some point.

Self-doubt has infiltrated almost all of the love that she’s capable of giving, and it all feels silly and nonsensical and real and scary. If the relationship that created Takeru fell apart, how does she know she’d be able to give Takeru any love? Does she have any love to give? Her heart is filled with broken bits and with a love that has become a part of the past—a ghost haunting her present. She doesn’t know how to cast it out, and she doesn’t know if she wants it gone just yet. If she’s ready to let go.

But there is also warmth. 

It is the kind words of comfort coming from Mom when it is late and “Even though you’re an adult Haruna, you still should go to bed at a decent time.”

It is Dad changing Takeru’s diapers, going even further to make it a competition to see who can change the most between him and Haruna, and being adamant about being the winner (he is the winner so far). 

It is Tooru’s hands holding hers right now because when you have Tooru as a younger brother, you can bet that he’s observant enough to know something is off, and to try to do something about it if he can. 

And there is Takeru. Tiny, with a beating heart, Takeru. 

It happens bit by bit, little by little. Haruna feels a tear roll down her cheek, then another, and another. Tooru’s face gets blurrier and blobbier, but his hands tighten against hers before he wraps his arms around her neck.

Haruna cries and cries. She doesn’t notice their father come upstairs to check in on them, or that almost an hour has passed. She just feels release, heaviness gravitating upwards to vanish into the stars. The snap and sting of the rubber bands in her gut that have been twisting her being with stress, unease, desperation—pain, finally breaking their tension.

And there is something Haruna knows and remembers. Oikawa’s are made stubborn, and they never give up. 

Not only is she an Oikawa, she is also surrounded by many Oikawa’s, who are stubborn people, who won’t give up on her, and who love her. 

She will be okay. It’s going to be okay.

That night, Tooru and Haruna eat upstairs in the bedroom together. It’s a special occasion that naturally becomes another new normal until one evening later in the future. 

That night, Haruna almost spills some soup on the carpet, and Tooru says if they make a mess they can just plop Takeru in front of it and he’d probably lick it and clean it up for them, and well, it’s not the nicest of images to picture your child licking soup off of the floor, but Haruna laughs. Haruna laughs a lot at that.

And that night, Tooru learns something new. That crying isn’t only a sign of hurting.

It can also be a sign of healing.

(One evening, about a month from now, Haruna will be sitting down at the dinner table, smiling whole-heartedly with her mouth stretching into the dimples of her cheeks. There are no longer any empty seats at the table.)

-

The tape roll rips, sealing up another cardboard box before it is placed near the door amongst many more sealed up cardboard boxes. 

“We’re only thirty minutes away,” Haruna hums softly, another tape roll ripping.

Tooru flicks open a blanket with an aggressive _thwap_ , not bothering to hide his upset. The blanket is obviously much too big for him to fold on his own. Tooru tries and fails to fold it anyway.

“I know,” he mumbles underneath his breath.

“You’re being pretty grumpy right now,” Haruna points out with a small giggle.

“I know,” Tooru repeats, flatly.

“You’ve been pretty grumpy the past week,” Haruna adds, getting up to assist him, holding the other side of the fabric.

Tooru knows he’s being a bit childish and unfair. He is happy that Haruna and Takeru have found a place, and yes, he knows that in the long run, Haruna and Takeru couldn’t share a room for forever, and deep down he had an inkling that their stay at the family home would be temporary. 

It was just really nice, and it would’ve been nicer if it was just a bit longer. 

He meets Haruna in the middle, completing the fold. He can feel her gentle eyes and cheeky, teasing smile on him. 

Tooru doesn’t make eye contact, pouting at the floor. “Who’s going to make me feel better when I need to rant about crappy people who are better than me?”

“Language,” Haruna reminds him, quickly glancing at the door. Tooru covers his mouth quickly in reaction. Luckily, there’s no toddler in sight. 

They both sigh in relief. The blanket plops to the ground with a satisfying thump, and Haruna pats Tooru’s head, ruffling his hair. “You can always reach me by phone. Isn’t texting the thing you kids are good at anyway?”

Tooru watches the strands swish in front of his face, and the mismatching patches of the blanket at his feet begins to muddle in his eyes. 

“I’m going to miss you both.”

Haruna leans in, encasing her arms around him. “We’re going to miss you too.”

“And Tooru.”

“Mhm?”

“You’re the best.”

-

Time flies—no, it seems to skyrocket into the stratosphere.

“I’m a big boy now,” Takeru tells him as proof that yes, as a big boy he should be able to eat a second lollipop.

_You’re five,_ Tooru thinks, and on his baby-sitting watch, Takeru is not going to get a second lollipop. Tooru also doesn’t have a second lollipop for Takeru.

“Big boys don’t get second lollipops,” Tooru says, reaching into his duffel bag. “Big boys get one lollipop and an apple. Apples are much cooler. They’re crunchy.”

Luckily, Takeru is easily convinced that apples are cooler than lollipops and reaches his grabby hands up to Tooru to accept the cooler-than-a-lollipop apple.

“Where are we going?” Takeru asks, now happily munching away at his crunchy apple.

The two approach a building. There’s the shrill voices of other children in the background, and a sign on the ground with the words _Lil Tykes Volleyball Classroom_.

“I’m going to teach you how to be just as cool as me.”

-

A ball spins upwards off Takeru’s fingertips towards the out boundary—the opposite, intended direction.

“You have to hold your elbows wider.”

“I have tiny elbows!”

“You have to hold your tiny elbows wider. They can do it. Believe me.”

“No. No they can’t. I know my tiny elbows, and they can’t do it.”

“Try.”

“Oh.”

“See?”

-

A ball dejectedly bounces off the ground right in front of Takeru’s toes.

“Takeru, you have to watch the ball, watch the opposite team, and watch your teammates, all at the same time.”

“Tooru, I only have two eyes. They’re tired. Give them a break.”

“Tak-”

“My legs are tired too. Honestly, my whole body is tired. I’m tired.”

“Taker-”

“Also, I gotta pee. Can I go pee?”

…

“Go for it. Take a break.”

-

A ball deflects off of Takeru’s not-so tiny elbows, landing perfectly and effortlessly back into Takeru’s face.

"Receiving is tricky, huh?”

“Sometimes I wonder if I just suck at volleyball.”

“We can pract-”

“But it’s probably you who just sucks at coaching.”

-

“Oi, Takeru.”

“What?”

Tooru takes two more seconds to look back between Kageyma bowing and at his blurry body on his phone screen before stuffing it in his pocket. Whatever. It’s better than nothing. 

“You can’t just go and tell other people my girlfriend broke up with me. Secrets are important to keep.”

Takeru skips and hops ahead on the sidewalk. “How important?”

“Hmmm. You should keep them closer than your enemies.”

Takeru makes a face up at him. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Doesn’t it make sense? Tooru shrugs. “You’ll understand it when you’re older.”

“I’m not going to remember that when I’m older.”

Before Tooru can make any kind of comeback, Takeru breaks out into a hum of what sounds like the _Pokémon_ opening theme song. It’s slightly out of tune and happy. Tooru lets this one go. It’s a bright, beautiful day, and for a Monday that you just happen to bump into a run-down Kageyama Tobio, it’s not too bad. Tooru looks to the sky and at the fluffy clouds, and steps around Takeru so that the younger boy is walking on the inside of the sidewalk away from the road, as they make their trek to Takeru’s home.

“Hey, Tooru?” Takeru pipes up, now finished with his moment of solo-karaoke.

“Hmmm?

“Do you really not know why your girlfriend broke up with you?”

Takeru liked asking questions, lots of them. Sometimes they were random. Sometimes they were interestingly insightful for a seven-year old (Takeru was a smart kid). Sometimes they were questions that Tooru had answers to, but didn’t want to admit or think about.

Deep down he knows why she broke up with him. There are plenty of reasons. She couldn’t be with him anymore, and she didn’t want to be with him anymore. A part of him feels really bad and really guilty for the time they couldn’t spend together—the dates that could never be made in the first place because he was busy, the afterschool walks home that he couldn’t walk because of practice, or the calls he couldn’t talk because it was already just past midnight, and he had stayed late to do some extra serves and needed to sleep. 

Another part of him wonders if she knew what she was getting into. Volleyball and him are a package deal, everyone knows that. It’s the first thing people know about Tooru—he plays volleyball, and he spends a lot of time playing volleyball. 

He doesn’t blame her though. Sometimes it actually takes doing something to figure out if you can work with it, and she figured out that she couldn’t work with it.

“She didn’t really say anything,” Tooru answers as they turn a corner. Takeru almost bumps into a dog and its owner. 

“She just said she was breaking up with me.”

“Uh-huh.”

_And that I was too obsessed with volleyball_ which was unnecessary and uncalled for. Tooru decides he’ll allow himself to hold a grudge for maybe another week or so.

“Sometimes that’s just what happens,” Tooru continues. “That’s the way it works out. Things change.”

Takeru nods thoughtfully. “I guess that’s just what happens in our family. That’s like my parents.”

It is sort of similar. Takeru wasn’t really wrong.

“Tooru, do you want a family one day?” the young boy asks.

Tooru thinks about this for a moment. 

The _family_ Takeru is probably referring to is the nuclear meaning. So, a partner and children. Tooru thinks that throughout his lifetime, he’ll probably fall in love and fall out of love, and then finally fall in love and stay in love. He doesn’t see that happening anytime soon though. Relationships are easy and hard all at the same time, and he thinks he read it in some book about happiness that they don’t make you as happy as you think they would. Not that he thinks a loving partner wouldn’t make him happy, it’s just there are so many other circumstances that go into it. 

He thinks about the slight sting in his chest, the name of his ex, the _it’s not the right timing_ , and not having enough commitment. He doesn’t have a definite answer. It's a mix of not now but maybe later—maybe never—or, maybe there will eventually be a forever.

But he doesn’t know right now. 

In regards to children, they’re a concept he doesn’t think he’ll ever truly grasp, even when he’s at his “prime” age of child-having. Children are not so simply a commitment. Children are a promise of unconditional love when you are still figuring out what your conditions are. Children are a responsibility with no set rule book. Children are often more romanticized than romance itself. People look at babies and toddlers with their sweet cheeks and gurgling cries, and sigh with desire and want, but they don’t seem to look at a teenager or even a young adult in that same shiny light. The fact of the matter is, you’re going to have to look at a teenager or that young adult and think _I want that_ because at some point when you’re a parent, you’re going to have that. 

Children are complicated and so much more than someone to take care of. Tooru thinks the world might be better off if more people had pets instead.

And here’s another thing—a very important thing—something that Tooru knows for sure. 

A family can look like many things. It can look like three roommates and their goldfish. It can look like a single parent and their child. It can look like a highschool volleyball team that you say _I believe in all of you_ to before every game.

Family.

“Tooooruuu?”

Tooru thinks of the matching turquoise uniforms, his father, his mother, his sister and his nephew who just said his name four seconds ago.

He smiles as he pats Takeru’s head. 

“I’ve already got you, don’t I?”

-

Flight number announcements chime through the speakers. _C domain_ has been trying to find some passenger named _Yamada Taro_ for the past fifteen minutes. The security line is in front of him. 

Tooru looks back at his family (his mother, his father, his sister, his nephew, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki and Matsukawa) to say goodbye.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Tooru grins, suitcase in hand. 

“Don’t miss _me_ ,” Takeru corrects him. “There’s a photo of me with the card for you to look at when you’re sad and suck at volleyball and want to feel better.”

“Yeah, looking at your gross face is going to make me feel better when I’m sad.”

“If I have a gross face, you have a gross face.”

“And Tooru, between you and Takeru, you have the grosser face.”

“Iwa-chan, you’re supposed to side with me and not Takeru!”

“Tooru, you’re not supposed to be mean to your sweet, cute nephew,” Hanamaki chimes in.

Tooru scoffs. “Takeru’s sweet and cute days are long behind him.”

“Hmph, if that’s the case Tooru, your cool days are way, way, way behind you.”

“Takeruuu.”

“Because-” Takeru chokes midway through his sentence. 

“Your cooler days are ahead of you.”

Takeru’s shoulders tremble with little shakes. The small tears that start to form seem to pass along to everyone present—Tooru’s sister rubs her eye, his mother covers her mouth with both her hands, and his father is blinking furiously while looking upwards. Iwaizumi turns his back to him, Hanamaki places the back of his palm against his eyes, and Matsukawa puts his face into his hoodie.

Tooru drops to Takeru’s height, ushering the young boy into his arms, and goes off to hug every single person individually afterwards, hugging them once more even after that for good measure and good luck. There are group hugs, some loving whacks to the back of his head, tight three-minute squeezes and warm words said between every one of them. 

“Promise you won’t overwork yourself, okay?"

“Remember to eat and sleep well.”

“Call us if you need anything.”

“Keep in touch. Let’s check in every now and then when we’re all free.”

“You better still hang out with us when you’re famous.”

“I’ll see you soon, Trashykawa.”

“Thank you for teaching me volleyball.”

-

Later, once Tooru has arrived safely in Argentina, has updated his family and the seijoh group chat to notify them that he has landed and has made it to his apartment, he starts to unpack his belongings. He opens the card Takeru gave him, reads it, and cries again, and puts the photo with the letter on the fridge.

It’s not just a photo of Takeru, it’s a photo of him too. Smiling and sweaty, Tooru and Takeru are both making peace signs with a volleyball sandwiched between them.

Takeru is right. The photo does make him feel better.

-

_March 2021_

Some things stay the same, constant and unshaken, even when faced with changes, whether that be living in another country, or playing for a different team.

The game will begin, the game will end, and there will be many games after this one. The whistle blows, the onlookers hoot and shout, and amongst them, Tooru always recognizes familiar voices—his family cheering his name.

He feels it in his chest, and his heart pumps with pride, loudly and clearly.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [@aoba-j](https://aoba-j.tumblr.com)


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